


The Hunter Games

by Catfeyrac



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catfeyrac/pseuds/Catfeyrac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester really only cares about one person, someone he holds above himself and would readily die for. Sam just wants his brother to be alright. Tides are turned when Sam's name is called for the Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping

"Dean?"  
Dean looked away from his reflection in the mirror to look at his little brother.  
Sam was standing there, looking a little sheepish. He was holding his hands behind his back so Dean could see his outfit. It wasn't as dirty as his usual attire, and it even looked like he tried to flatten some of the wrinkles out. He wore a blue dress shirt, something only worn on special occasions, like reaping day. Brown slacks covered his elongating legs, and he wore loafers to complete. His hair was slicked back so it wasn't in his face, making him look a couple years older than twelve.  
"Is it okay?" he asked, looking up at Dean.  
Dean strode over to Sam, rubbing his hand through his hair, making it stick up in a couple places.  
"There, that looks more like the Sam I know," Dean said, flashing him a quick grin.  
Sam gave him a smile that disappeared after another moment.  
"You okay, Sammy?"  
"Yeah... Just... What if I'm picked? There's no kids that are eighteen this year, no one will volunteer for me if I am."  
"You never know Sam, and your name is only going once anyways. I doubt you'll be picked," Dean said, flipping his collar up in an attempt to hide his worry from his brother.  
"But yours is going in 20 times this year, what if you are picked?"  
"That's because of the tesserae. We get food, so it was worth it for whatever it's worth," Dean muttered.  
Before Sam could respond, a gruff voice piped up from the other side of the room, "You boys ready?"  
Both of them nodded obediently then followed him out the door.  
From across the road, Dean spotted a young blonde girl.  
"Jo!" he called to her.  
Jo looked up and came over.  
Jo Harvelle was 14, two years in between both Sam and Dean, and was considered a friend to both. Her mother owned the one of the main shops in their village, and Ash, the genius, lived there as well.  
"Hey Dean. Happy reaping day." her normal energy was a little sapped, but Dean knew how she felt.  
Reaping day was always a terrifying day, even for kids in District 2.  
"Happy reaping day," Dean sighed in reply. "How's Ellen and Ash?"  
"Mom is trying to compose herself... You know how she is on reaping day. And Ash is probably either drunk or hungover. Not sure, he hasn't left his room since yesterday morning."  
Dean chuckled softly under his breath.  
Jo looked over at Sam, who was walking with his eyes lowered.  
"Hey Sam," he looked up when she said his name, "Dean probably already said this, but don't worry. You won't be picked. Even if you do, there's going to be someone who volunteers in your place."  
Dean noticed with a pang in his heart that Sam was at least almost as tall as Jo. He couldn't help but worry about him.  
Dean grabbed Sam's hand as the crowd began to grow. Sam tightened his grip as they came closer to the line. He was forced to let go when they reached the table.  
After they pricked Sam's finger and let him go, he was swept away with the crowd. Dean couldn't go find him again, so he stood in his place and searched above the heads. His eyes meet Jo's after a moment, and she mouthed "good luck" to him.  
"Attention, attention!"  
'God her voice is annoying' Dean thought as the woman who announced the tributes spoke up, tapping on the mic.  
She was dressed in some god-awful pink dress that puffed out at the bottom, complete with pink wig and fake magenta eyelashes.  
The mandatory video on "War, terrible war" played through with different levels of interest and fear, before she spoke again.  
"Welcome, welcome, to the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. As always, ladies first!"  
At least she kept it brief. If you are sending us to our deaths, no need to sugar-coat it.  
Her hand waved around the glass bowl for a few moments, before she grabbed a slip of paper. She walked back to the mic, and Dean could swear you could hear the anticipation. She carefully unfolded it, then spoke into the mic.  
"Jo Harvelle!"  
Dean's head snapped around to look at Jo. Her eyes had widened, and he could see her face pale from where he stood. From the back, he could hear Ellen screaming. His eyes darted to her; Ash was holding her back from running up to Jo, trying to calm her down. His eyes darted back to Jo, who was taking her place on the stage, trying to hide her fear.  
"And now for the men."  
It disgusted him. How uncaring the Capitol was, that they could sentence an innocent young girl like Jo to death and simply move on, ignoring the screams of her mother.  
"Sam Winchester!"  
At the sound of his brother's name, Dean immediately snapped out of his thoughts. Before Sam could even react, Dean shoved the crowd out of his way, fury igniting in him at the Capitol.  
"I volunteer as tribute!" he shouted, glaring flames at the Capitol woman.  
"Well, we have a volunteer! Come up, come up, what's your name?" she asked in that high-pitched voice.  
Ignoring Sam's shouts as best as he could, he walked up to the woman, "Dean Winchester."  
"I'll bet that was your brother. Couldn't let him steal your glory, could you?"  
Dean turned to her, and she paled a little under his threatening glare.  
She quickly composed herself and turned back to the mic.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 2 tributes!"

Dean was waiting in the Justice Building, trying not to punch a wall. Though, he was debating whether or not it really mattered. They couldn't punish him anymore now. The door opened and Sam ran in, hugging Dean tightly. Dean held him for a moment, closing his eyes and enjoying what might be the last hug from Sam he'll ever get. When he let go, he bent down to Sam's level. Sam stared at him, and Dean could see tears in his eyes.  
"You have to win Dean... I know you can, you can win..." Sam said, making Dean's heart break at his sad tone.  
"I will win. I'll come back to you Sammy, I promise."  
Sam took something out of his pocket and held it out to Dean.  
"I heard that you were allowed to take something from your District into the Arena."  
He opened his palm to reveal the amulet he had given Dean years ago. Dean took it gratefully and put it around his neck. A Peacekeeper came in and marked the time was up. Sam gave him one more quick hug and then was ushered out of the room.  
John came in next, staring at Dean.  
"Son, I'm not big on words but um... Good luck. Remember what I taught you, you might be able to get out," he said, shifting his gaze to the ground in front of Dean.  
"And if I don't? You gotta take care of Sammy. And I mean for real, he's gotta have a father figure and you know it wasn't exactly you."  
John looked back at Dean, nodding to him, "I try. I'll just try harder."  
"That's not good enough," Dean almost snarled.  
"I know. I'll admit you took care of him when I couldn't. And... I'm proud of you."  
The words were a bit of a shock to Dean, but John was also sent back out before Dean could respond.  
Dean wasn't expecting anyone else, but after a moment of silence, the door opened again.  
Ellen and Ash both walked in, surprising him. They were family friends, but he didn't think they'd see him off, especially since he'd be going into the Arena with Jo.  
"Heya Dean," Ash slurred, definitely at least a little drunk, although there was a hint of sobriety.  
"Hey Ash, Ellen," he replied, "I wouldn't have expected you to come."  
"We wanted to wish you luck," Ellen said quietly.  
Dean was silent for a minute.  
"If I don't make it, I'll try to make sure Jo gets out."  
Ellen gave him a small smile and pulled him into a hug.  
"Thank you. She said the same about you. She wants you to win.."  
Dean pulled back, staring at Ellen.  
"Really?"  
"Yes. Just... I don't want her to suffer. If she's going to..." Her voice broke, and she swallowed before continuing. "If she's going to die, make sure it's quick."  
Dean nodded.  
"We'll be rooting for ya. And we'll take care of Sam while you're gone," Ash said as they turned to leave, escorted by a Peacekeeper.  
There were no more visitors; Dean expected no one else.


	2. The Riding

Before long, Dean and Jo were escorted to a train that was lying in wait for them.  
As they walked into a room with cushioned chairs, the Capitol lady, who introduced herself as Rupillia Overwhill, ushered them to sit.  
"I’ll go get your mentor. You’ll just love Bobby; he’s as… tough and gritty as the two of you.”  
She then left the two sitting alone in the car.  
Dean watched as the train began to pull out, leaving the station and their District for what could be the last time for both of them.  
He looked over at Jo, who was staring at her hands.  
“You okay?”  
She looked up at him, giving him a small nod.  
“They wouldn’t let me take a weapon to the Arena… I wanted to take my dad’s knife.”  
“They might be able to send it to you. Can’t you get gifts and stuff for survival?” Dean asked.  
“Right you are, boy. Gifts like that come from sponsors,” a gruff voice said from the doorway.  
An older man walked in, taking a swig out of a flask. He looked a little familiar to Dean, but he shrugged off the feeling.  
“I’m gonna take a shot and guess you’re our mentor,” Dean stated, sitting up.  
“Name’s Bobby Singer.”  
Bobby sat down in the chair across from them, and both tributes sat up straighter.  
“So. Gifts come from sponsors. Sponsors come from people likin’ ya. So during the Tribute Parade and the interviews, you gotta make every _second_ count and make people like ya. Won’t be hard, you’re two young attractive District 2 kids. You could team up with Districts 1 and 4 tributes and-“  
“No,” Dean and Jo said at the same time.  
“We aren’t allying with anyone. Just each other,” Dean stated.  
“That’s a bit dangerous, but also a bit smart. When you’re in the arena, you’ll need more than just weapons. Water, food, medicine, sometimes they can only come as gifts. So I mean it when I say you gotta be liked. It helps if you’ve got a tragic backstory,” Bobby glances over at Dean at the last statement.  
“My mom’s dead, my dad is a horrible father, and I’m the only one who can take care of my little brother. So I intend to win so I can go back home to Sammy.”  
Bobby nodded.  
“Wouldn’t have wished it on anyone, and John was a nice guy before Mary died.”  
Dean stared at him, a little speechless.  
“You knew them?” Jo asked for him.  
“Sure did. Lived nearby, tutored John every once in a while. I saw what Mary’s death did to him, I tried my damnest to keep you boys away from his breaking down.”  
Suddenly, Dean remembers being lead away from his house with a tiny waddling Sam, hearing his dad breaking things inside. He remembers why Bobby looked familiar.  
“So I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of that arena alive.”  
Dean mumbled thanks to Bobby, both for now and for what he did in the past.  
“I will too. I’ll make it as far as I can, then let him win. Mom and Ash can get over my death, but Sam really needs Dean to take care of him.” Jo stated, to which Bobby nodded softly.  
The cabin was silent for a few moments as everyone began pondering over their own thoughts. Dean thought about how Sam would be right now. He would probably be crying, or trying to act tough. He might be in Dean’s room, or with Ellen and Ash, lamenting over their leaving. He subconsciously fiddled with the amulet, hearing Sam’s voice in his head: “ _You have to win Dean... I know you can, you can win…_ ”  
He stood up, rushing past them, saying “I’m gonna go… somewhere else.”  
They didn’t argue or try to follow as Dean made his way to the back of the train and sat on the cushion, staring out the window facing the back rails.   
It was only then that he allowed himself to cry, not because he was scared or upset at the prospect of dying, but because Sam was all alone, probably miserable, and there was nothing he could do. He allowed himself this moment of weakness, because once they were off the train, he was going to be merciless.


End file.
